


Learning from Insanity

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-10
Updated: 2009-01-10
Packaged: 2019-01-23 13:45:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12508772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: [Fic Exchange '08] I must focus all my time on studying or writing or doing something important. Obviously that is what I need; I mean, why else would I be having illusions that I 'like' Potter? I mean, clearly I have had too much time in the sun or in the snow. What other logical reasons are there?





	Learning from Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

Merry Christmas, Meghan (GreyStreet)!

.

**So Very Sophisticated...**

Is it possible to go mad from the sound of my scribbling pen? Is it supposed to be that loud? I mean, are normal pens ear-shattering? You know what? It is decided. I am getting a new pen.

So here I am. My domain, the library, where it is free of all troubles and problems. It is so perfect with all of its books laced with...uh...dust.

Yes, I know I need to work on my humor. Jeez, we can't all be comedians.

I close my book. How much can a girl study, anyway? I mean, there must be some limit or something or rather.

I forget what I was studying for anyways. Anyways, I work too much.

I'm deciding to depart from the library when the 'oh so great' Potter enters. "Great. This is just great," I mutter sarcastically under my breath.

As he comes in, I run in the other direction, which is not particularly intelligent considering there is only one exit.

But as he goes off to one side, looking for Remus, I assume, I slide out the door.

Ahah Potter, I fooled you.

I zoom off to the common room; perhaps I can find one of my mates there.

Up I go, down this long corridor, and now to the stairs.

I swear these steps loathe me.

Every bloody time I want to go to one staircase, it just happens to change. Stairs are such stupid, rotten things when they move.

Who was the genius that came up with that idea?

I bet it was some old bloke who hated children. He was mean and cruel and he thought that tricking people was nice.

If I ever find his grave, I will spit on it!

So I barely get up the stairs without giving up and flinging my self off the side. A rather impressive accomplishment, I'd say.

I reach the picture of the Fat Lady. "Password?" she asks lazily.

"Ficklepods." I answer.

"Sorry, but no," she answers.

Oh, stupid Fat Lady! "But that was it this morning!"

"Well, it was changed," she answers curtly.

"To what?" I ask, attempting to trick this portrait.

"To: You are not entering without a password."

"Okay! You are not enter— Hey!" I cry. Man, I am a blunt.

Alice comes up the stairs—oh, so they are nice to _her_? Why must every inanimate object despise me?

"Everfair," she says simply, and the Fat Lady's portrait swings open. I walk in behind Alice in awe.

"You know what? I bet today is 'Be mean to Lily Evans day!' Someone could've at least sent me the memo so I could've faked sick!" I comment, plopping onto a couch.

Alice sits down in the armchair across from me. "Overreacting much, Lil?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I am not overreacting, first—" I start off, preparing to list all of my troubles when _he_ arrives.

"Evans, darling!"

Yup, it really is 'Be mean to Lily Evans day'. The world hates me.

"Potter..." I mumble.

Alice has a silly, annoying little grin on her face.

"Hey, James," she greets.

First name? _First name_? How can she live with herself!?

He comes over and sits next to me. Did I _say_ he could sit there? A proper gentlemen would _ask_ to sit next to a lady.

But obviously this boy is nowhere _near_ a proper gentlemen.

"So, Evans, plans for the next Hogsmeade visit?" he asks, flashing his stupid smile.

"Indeed I do—" I don't.

"Really? Is that so?" he asks, glancing at Alice.

My traitor friend shakes her head.

"Well, could I perhaps be involved in your plans?" he asks hopefully.

"Nope," I reply emotionlessly.

"You'll say yes someday, Evans, just you wait," he says with a wink and he bounds up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

"I _highly_ doubt that," I mutter to myself a while after he has left.

"Must you always turn him down, Lil?" Alice asks, sighing.

"Must you always say the same thing?" I ask.

"Yup."

"Then 'Yup' for me too."

"You suck."

"Touché."

She scowls. " Come on, Lily!" she says, her voice annoyed. "He has big hazel eyes, irresistible messy black hair, a muscular figure—not to mention he is head-over-heels for a certain redhead I know!" she explains.

I roll my eyes. "That may be true, but well, I must be focused on my...err...latest work."

She raises her eyebrows. "And what might that be?"

I bite my lip for a moment. "Uh...My novel! Yes, my novel."

She stares at me, blinking a lot. "Hmm...What is it called?"

I glance around, trying to think. "It is called...err... The Book that has nothing to do with and/or is in any way associated with and/or is not including, at all, James Potter!" Yes, pathetic, don't remind me, I panicked.

She lets out a hiss of frustration and storms off.

Why is _she_ angry? I mean if he is _so_ great, why isn't she dating him?

When will I get these answers? WHEN?

Ugh. I think I will write that novel, to distract myself. I need to remember that I have more important things to do than swoon over James bloody Potter.

But I am not swooning, no, no. I meant, er...letting him bother me...Yes! That's it!

I pull out an old notebook I got the previous Christmas from Mum; I kept it with me until I needed it.

Times like this, actually.

I open the small leather notebook; inside on the side, it reads, in my mother's curly handwriting:

 

_Lily,_

_I hope you use this to write down your thoughts._

_I hope you like it!_

_Happy Christmas!_

_Mum_

_xxxxx_

 

Thoughts? Merlin, my mother is quite dotty.

I pull out a thin feather quill and begin to write:

 

_Once Upon a Time, there lived an intelligent redheaded girl who did not know_ _someone_ _named_ _James_ _Potter_ —

 

My God! Already? Can I not write two sentences without him popping up? I'll just hastily scribble out that bit.

 

_That intelligent redheaded girl went to Hogwarts and had lots and lots of mates, as well as a boy with black hair and hazel eyes who—_

 

Scratch. Cross Out. Stupid, stupid Potter.

 

_Once there was a boy with_ blonde _hair and bright_ blue _eyes who was_ nice _and_ never played pranks _on people and he_ never bothered _the redheaded girl and he was_ polite _and his hair was_ neat _and he did_ not _have a_ stupid _grin or a_ stupid _strut and was not a total pig!_

 

I think I had better stop writing for today.

 

**So very concentrated...**

Stupid Potions. Of course, Potions is just fine and well, but it just so happens to be the class where Mr. 'I'm-so-bloody-perfect-and-smooth-with-my-grace-and-intelligence-and-wit' sits in front of me. How am I cursed with such luck?

I mean, his super-attractive hair is kind of hot—I mean, whatever. No big deal. I mean, that bloke over there—no, never mind, his bangs look gross. Did he cut them himself? I mean, ew.

Well, that fellow over there—oh, wait. His hair is greasier than that burger I had with Mum when we went school shopping. Does he bathe at all?

So fine. 10 points for Potter because he is practically the only boy who tends his hair. Whoopee. So? Not a big deal at all.

"Mr. Potter? Would you like to explain this potion?" Slughorn asks. Why him? Oh wait, he gets it right. Argh! Is he bloody perfect? _Oh, I'm James Potter! I have good hair, I'm a Quidditch player, I'm smart, and basically all the girls fantasize about snogging me!_

I hate thoughts, really. Why can't my brain just shut down and refrain from thinking?

Oh, and his eyes, it's not like they're...wow, his eyes are really nice...

"So, Miss Evans? What is the conclusion?"

"Well, very dreamy eyes and fluffy hair, intelligent, handsome—crap. Bloody hell. Er...I mean...Well..."

Oh lord. Oh lord. Oh lord.

"Excuse me, Miss Evans?" Slughorn asks, his bushy eyebrows rising high into his hairline because of my swearing. And maybe, just maybe he was confused by my going on about Potter. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. This cannot be happening.

"I er...have to go..." I say weakly.

I run out of that room faster than if mutant hippogriffs with laser guns were chasing me.

 

**So very dead...**

Why was I destined to have such a sad excuse for a life? You know what, Slughorn? I have found my conclusion. I must concentrate on my work from now on.

Yes, no distractions, no stupid boys. My work.

Who knows? Maybe I'll take up painting.

I must focus all my time on studying or writing or doing something important.

Obviously that is what I need; I mean, why else would I be having illusions that I 'like' Potter? I mean, clearly I have had too much time in the sun or in the snow.

What other logical reasons are there?

So very busy and _not_ distracted...

Studying is always enjoyable. Did you know that if you keep your wand at the right angle, your spell works more accurately?

See? Studying is good! No James Potters or distractions. This is just me being with my books.

Study. Study. Study.

Studying is very useful.

Unlike thinking, because thinking leads to thoughts and thoughts lead to Potter.

And I loathe Potter.

So not thinking, and studying instead, is best for everyone!

Well, that is the logical approach, I presume.

 

**So very happy...**

Here I am, sitting peacefully by the cozy fire, reading a Potions textbook.

This is the life. Sitting in an armchair with the warmth of the crackling fire and a textbook in hand.

And absolutely no distractions.

"YES! AHAHA! YEAH!" I hear cheers calling from the entrance.

Drat. I spoke too soon.

Why must that cliché thing _always_ happen? As soon as you say something you don't want, it just 'coincidently' occurs about 5 seconds later.

Perhaps I ought to look it up.

_Or_ if there is no book containing such information, I could do research the cliché occurrence and write a non-fiction text about the topic myself! Another distraction—I mean, thing to add for my job resume! Aha!

Yes, I know I sound silly about the...er...'Distraction' business, but I just need to be distracted from...from...distracted from being distracted with other unimportant matters.

Yes, that'll work.

"YEAH!" I hear a male voice bellow. I have _no idea_ who the voice belongs to. I mean, why would _I_ know?

I bury my face in my textbook, curling myself into a ball sort of shape.

"Well, we did it, lads! We beat 'em!" An _unknown_ voice declares, entering the common room.

"Oy, Evans," the voice says.

I peer up from the text. "Yes?" I say coolly; this _creature_ is distracting me.

He ruffles his black hair hastily, as if to, dare I write it, 'primp'. "Lately, your nose has always been in a book, " he observes; Sirius gives him a pat on the shoulder, but the form carries on, "Can't you get a disease from that?"

"Yes; it is called 'intelligence'," I retort.

There is a round of "Oh!" from the other blokes.

I snort and continue to read. _So if you mix the mandrake root with the dragon—_

"Evans! We just beat Slytherin; can't a bloke at least get a victory kiss?" the figure asks, a wide grin spread upon his face.

I sigh and give him a sweet, alluring smile. "Oh, yes, and you deserve a hot, slobbery kiss—" his smile widens— "from your beau, Sirius Black."

"Ruff!" Peter Pettigrew barks, making the others laugh rather loudly.

"Two for Lily, zero for James," Remus scores, using his hands to write an invisible tally in the air.

Potter gasps, " Evans! How...How could you think I'd choose Sirius over you?"

Sirius is having a choking fit, obviously amazed by the truth in what I said.

But I must continue studying! Can't a girl just read? Stupid Potter!

"Evans, it's okay," Potter says with a smirk. I want to slug him to remove it from his face.

No, scratch that, I just really want to slug him.

"What on earth are you talking about? Can't a girl just re—"

Potter waves his hand to silence me. Cocky little—

"I get that you're scared," he says, that stupid grin still etched upon his face.

" _Scared_? Are you mad Potter? The only thing I'm scared of is not being able to stu—"

"You're scared of relationships. I know you never dated before, but I'm, well," he winks, "a pretty _amazing_ first."

I rise from my seat angrily. "WHAT? Potter, you—CAN'T A GIRL STUDY IN PEACE?" I holler, and storm away to the girls' dormitory, a blush burning on my cheeks.

 

**So very scared...**

Now I know why.

I know _why_ I lashed out at James.

I know _why_ I lashed out at Alice.

Studying is driving me mad.

Undeniably, most defiantly and uncontrollably mad.

But my question is, _how_?

I mean, _really_! How can a person be driven to insanity from the harmless act of learning?

It makes no sense!

I mean, merely studying can hardly drive you mad, right?

So then I came to my next conclusion.

I must find out why, or how, you can go mad from a study overdose.

 

**So very discovering...**

"Alice, can you go mad from too much studying?" I ask Saturday morning in the girls' dormitory.

"Lil-eeee!" she groans. "It's too early for this!"

"Um. No, it's not," I point out, looking at my watch. "It's eleven a.m., rather late."

"Eleven is not late in my world..." she mutters.

"Alice! You are very lazy!" I say.

"Just go ask Remus or something..." she mumbles, pulling a pillow on top of her head.

" _Remus_? Fine..." I mumble, and depart from the dormitory.

She is a very bad mate.

Not that I dislike Remus or anything, but he is a boy, and when I am with boys, I am an idiot.

Even if it is Remus Lupin.

Luckily, Remus is not far; he is in the common room, reading.

Now that is the kind of boy I would date, one who reads.

NOT THAT I FANCY REMUS.

"Remus!" I call.

He looks up. "Er...Yes, Lily?"

"I have a question..." I mutter quickly.

Why am I doing this again?

He sets his book down. "And what is that question?" he asks, with a bored expression.

"Um...Can you go insane from, er...over-studying?"

He chuckles. "Lily! I study quite a lot, and am I insane?" He asks.

Well, Remus, if you think of the choice of friends you made...I mean, seriously, someone like him hanging out with Potter, Black, and Pettigrew? Yes, that may be a fact that can cause me to question his sanity.

So maybe he _wasn't_ the best person to ask...

"No, Remus, you aren't," I lie.

"Exactly!" And then he picks up his book and keeps reading.

Now to find someone else—well, find someone who isn't insane.

I look around; my eyes fall upon Peter Pettigrew.

Not _exactly_ who I was looking for.

Oh, well, worth a shot.

Who am I kidding?

"Er...Peter?" I ask.

It is quite an abnormal scene, because Peter too is reading. A textbook. Peter Pettigrew, dare I say it, studying.

He briefly looks up, and there is a flash of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Er...Um...I...was...wondering...if you think someone can go mad from studying too much?"

"Well, exams are soon, so it is natural for someone to be studying," he points out.

"Er...Peter...Exams aren't for seven months..."

He looks like he is about to scream at this. "SIRIUS!"

Ah, there it is.

Well, I got no help with my problem from him. Moving on.

Look. Look. Look. Black. Look. Look.

No. No bloody way.

Fine!

"Blac—Er...Sirius, I was wondering...er...um..."

He sighs, "Sorry, Evans, no."

"But I haven't even—"

"I would, I mean, you aren't bad-looking or anything, but James is my mate; it would be wrong."

"What?"

"If James didn't fancy you, of course I'd say yes, but James is such a good friend—"

"Black! No! I was not going to ask you out!"

"You weren't?" Oh, yes, he's acting confused.

Arrogant. Arrogant. Arrogant.

I let out a sigh and walk away.

I am doomed to a life of insanity.

 

**So very stupid...**

I listened to everyone but one person.

Myself.

After many hours of thinking—Yes, it took me hours, I am _very_ unintelligent.

I know what I have to do, no matter how excruciatingly painful it might be.

I must face the reason for my insanity.

"So Lil, you going with anyone this weekend to Hogmeade?" Dorcas asks as she cleans up her bed.

"In fact, I am," I reply with an extremely heavy sigh. "James Potter."


End file.
